Are You Hurting? Start Livin’ On A Prayer

Sometimes the hurting is too much to bear. We are overwhelmed, and we cast aside the simple beauty of a spring blossom because its purity stabs us in sharp contrast. Guile and deceit are heavy burdens. Malevolence is a devastating scourge. Perversion drifts in with the tide, and blows through our homes and communities with an ancient echo. We may fight the good fight on a daily basis, but we mourn our losses more often than not. The quest to share good news to wayward souls is exhausting. It can seem futile in the face of belligerence and callous depravity. But the petals slowly unfurl in the midst of utter chaos. Hope can never be extinguished.

Hurting? Smell spring blossoms and rejoice in the newness.

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Those words changed it all, forever. In the midst of His own unspeakable horrors He found a way to keep the faith, to bombard evil with righteous love. Hope survives and our quest for all that is good and right in the world continues — even when we’re absolutely devastated and distraught. Even when we’re sick and tired and angry. Especially then.

Hurting is a humbling experience. Hope heals.

None of us — not the silent majority, the suffering souls, the betrayed and bereaved, the young and the innocent — have or will ever suffer as much as He did. None will ever be so overwhelmed, so completely and utterly destroyed. We could never carry that burden. Ever. We may get the tiniest taste for it once in a while, though. Because it’s the only way to Him. We’re dense, see. We have to be reminded. Often. When it comes again, like waves of destruction, we feel like a stagnant swamp — lifeless and doomed. We’re overwhelmed by a swell of falling leaves, by a mass exodus of life toward the deep sleep of a cold and numbing winter.

When you're hurting and the world smells spring blossoms, but you feel like a stagnant pool.

Look beyond the hurting to the beauty beneath.

There are rocks below the surface. They are steppingstones that lead out of the quagmire and into the light.

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name. On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand. When darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace. In every high and stormy gale my anchor holds within the veil. On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

When you are overwhelmed with hurting, when the sickening ache in the pit of your belly bubbles up and threatens to spill out … Stop. Look. Listen to the words given to us ages and ages ago: As for me, I will call upon God; and the Lord shall save me. Evening, and morning, and at noon will I pray, and cry aloud: and he shall hear my voice. He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was against me.

I encourage you to read all of Psalm 55. The last phrase gives simple instruction for hurting times.

 

 

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2 Comments

  • comment-avatar
    carol williams April 16, 2016 (8:41 pm)

    Beautiful. Perfect timing too.

    • comment-avatar
      Jennifer Kiko April 19, 2016 (2:24 pm)

      Thanks, Carol. I am so happy and humbled these words are helpful!